


Challenge Accepted...?

by Anika_Ann



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Avenger reader - Freeform, Avengers Family, Coping Mechanisms, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Near Death Experiences, Reader Needs a Hug, Reader-Insert, Steve Rogers Being a Dumbass, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anika_Ann/pseuds/Anika_Ann
Summary: Steve’s never been good at quick decision-making when it came to his own safety. After one particularly horrible experience, you find a way to remind him every day to think twice the next time he’s faced with a tough choice.He is not amused.Prompt: "I thought you were dead.” “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”.Written for @mermaidxatxheart 500 writing challenge.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 124





	Challenge Accepted...?

**Author's Note:**

> Still figuring out Tumblr, but this was fun! Kinda.
> 
> Enjoy :))

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

You had been awake for about half an hour, sneaking from your bed – and how painful it had been, leaving the other occupant there – in search for caffeine; and more importantly to pick up the package that arrived for you that day. A package you had been waiting for to arrive for three days now despite requesting your order to be _express._

You had been gracing your boyfriend with silent treatment the whole time and it was getting old, so you couldn’t wait for it to end your misery. Naturally, it wasn’t as simple as that, a package magically resolving your problems, it was nothing but an object, but you had been left with three days to deal with your feelings and dark thoughts until it was delivered and you appreciated it.

Symbols were important; and the package was a symbol for you, a symbol of acceptance. 

Raising your gaze from the floor at the voice, you couldn’t but smile over your cup of coffee at how reluctant Steve sounded, the great Captain America himself afraid and hesitantly wavering at the door to the communal kitchen of the Avengers’ compound.

You loved him to bits, which was why you hadn’t enjoyed torturing him ( _and_ yourself) by keeping him at arm’s length, but fuck it, he deserved every single second of it and more.

 _Jerk_.

“Morning, _honey,”_ you replied warmly, barely holding your laughter at bay when an utterly baffled expression settled on his face at your sudden inviting tone. It was a complete U-turn from how you had been treating him the past days. “Slept well?”

It was a tricky question and you knew that he knew. Your time in bed – reduced to very chaste displays of affection, not lovers’ ones at all – was the only time he had been allowed to touch you, because the very first time you had spent night together after _the event,_ your body had followed its instincts and gravitated towards Steve no matter how pissed you had been. So, cuddling in your sleep was the most contact you had.

“…yes. Always do with you,” he whispered, his steps towards the kitchen slow but firm, apparently encouraged by your inviting tone.

“I’m glad. Any residual pain?”

He gulped, but his face brightened a bit at your care; you, of course, had cared the whole time, but you wouldn’t let him know too explicitly, your conversations rather clipped. When he had confronted you about it, about the way you kept treating him – with flames in your eyes –, your glare discouraged him from pressing further, his mouth opening only to fall shut again as you had stridden away.

“No. No, pain at all anymore.”

You nodded thoughtfully, finishing your cup. “Good. That’s good. Coffee?”

Not needing his answer, because it was always bound to be the same, you poured him a cup.

The moment you returned the pot to its place, Steve’s large hand covered yours, the radiating heat of his body warming your back even with the slight distance between you remaining.

Turning your head to side, glancing up to his face, you saw his eyes searching in your expression, looking for an answer; did you decide to grant him a pardon?

You charmed a tight smile for him, ignoring the tug at your stomach when you remembered you had every reason not to forgive him and tell him you were done with his bullshit – and with him.

With your face still under scrutiny, his other hand landed on your shoulder, squeezing with a tinniest strength. When your gaze involuntarily flickered to his lips in response to his proximity, he knew; manoeuvring your body as if it was nothing but a puppet, he pulled you into his embrace, his cheek resting on the top of your head, his chest expanding with deep inhale.

Your shoulders fell and you felt yourself melt into his frame, your rapidly beating heart in sync with his. His own raced because he was afraid you’d push him away, just like you had been doing it for the past few days; yours did, because it recalled with paralysing precision every single painful second in which you believed you would never feel his arms around you again.

He swayed your bodies a bit from side to side, cradling you in his arms, nuzzling your hair, tightening his hold on you.

Tears stung in your eyes at the display of his guttural need to keep you close. God knew you felt the same way, craving the reassurance of his embrace.

“I love you,” he whispered to your hair and you squeezed your eyes shut so the tears wouldn’t escape. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re an idiot. The biggest idiot I know, but I guess I never liked them particularly bright,” you muttered into his sleepshirt and his chest shook with hushed laughter as he took no offence. You even received a kiss to the top of your head, firm and lingering, filling every cell of your body with content and feeling of security.

Standing in the kitchen, the walls, which you had built up to be able to punish him for his crimes and to let him realize what he could lose, crumbled to dust.

It had taken a lot of strength to get to this point, leaving you drained both mentally and physically, but the package arrived today to seal the deal, as if confirming the victory of tolerance over emotions. You felt much better now, mostly because you couldn’t wait for Steve to see what you ordered for him – and for you.

“Oh. Good, you two made up. We can stop walking on eggshells around you now,” Sam’s voice interrupted your blissful bubble and you nearly jumped out of your skin at his voice. You never heard him coming.

And then he burst out laughing and you just _knew_ he noticed the change in the kitchen decorations. It caused your lips to curl up in a smirk before you kissed Steve’s clavicle over the fabric of his shirt and withdrew.

“What’s so funny?” Steve mumbled, slightly dazed, apparently still overwhelmed with the sudden drop of cold-shoulder attitude of yours.

Sam simply grinned, pointing at the sign sitting on the top of one the fridges as he opened it in search for breakfast.

“What the-“ Steve questioned incredulously, his eyes wide as he spun to you when you snorted at his reaction. “Was this you?!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not being serious,” he stated, his glare flickering between you and the small black table with caption and large number written with a chalk.

You frowned at him, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “But I am. _Very.”_

Steve eyed the small blackboard-styled sign in a wooden frame with an obvious distaste and a pout to his lips, but he remained silent; either he couldn’t find the words or didn’t dare to speak them.

Served him right.

Stupid risk-taking _dumbass_.

-.-.-

_“Surveillance room secure. No sign of activity,” Natasha’s voice informed you through the comm in your ear._

_You peeked from behind the door opened for a crack, scanning the level of the stairwell before moving from your hideout, arms stretched with your gun raised, ready to shoot. Soundlessly approaching the middle where the handrails of opposite stairwells nearly met, only leaving a slit in between to glance through, you did a quick once-over above and below you, ears pricked up to catch the tinniest of sounds that would alert you on having any hostiles present._

_Still ready to fire any second if needed, you raised your hand covered in fingerless glove to your left ear. The ampullas of tranquillizers covered in black metal reflected subtly in the flickering light of the fluorescent lamp. It was no coincidence your codename was Robin; you could easily put your enemies to sleep, bringing them the night much like the bird, Tony’s invention making your job easier._

_“Looks like east stairwell is clear,” you announced lowly to the rest of the team._

_Similar message arrived from Sam on the roof and surprisingly, it sent a chill down your spine rather than a relief to the tension in your battle-ready body._

_This was not okay. A S.H.I.E.L.D. undercover operative had reported activity only few hours ago; admittedly, it had taken you some time to get here, the distance New York – middle-of-nowhere Latvia posing a tiny problem to your time management, but the team consisting of you, Sam, Steve, Nat, Tony and Clint had been on the way with minimal delay after receiving the report._

_You didn’t like this base empty. It tickled your spy-sense and not in a good way._

_“West stairwell clear, heading to lower levels.”_

_“Starting the extraction of files. Last log-in was 6 hours ego. It’s hard to tell how much of their actual intel has been left for us,” Steve announced from the server room and if your gut wasn’t screaming at you that this was messed up, you would have smirked proudly at Steve’s skills with technology and rubbed it in face of anyone who had ever called him a grandpa._

_“Feels sloppy to leave_ anything _behind at all. The only heat signatures I’m reading are yours. Am I the only one who find this sketchy as fuck?” Tony’s voice rang from your ear and you muttered a silent ‘not at all’ under your breath._

_“Heading to upper levels, since is Clint on his way down.”_

_“Roger that,_ _future Mrs. Rogers,” Sam hummed over the comms and you rolled your eyes._

 _Poor Steve. You had been together for only few months; you were most definitely_ not _engaged, but the rest of the Avengers kept giving Steve shit about your relationship, because a) he apparently spent months working up the courage to actually ask you out and b) you were the first girl whom he in fact_ was _interested in to begin with after refusing like thirty different candidates from Nat (and occasionally Sam); to be fair, you couldn’t but feel incredibly flattered, learning these things, but Christ, your team was full of little shits._

_Must have got it from their captain then._

_“Har, har. You’re hilarious, Wilson,” you hissed quietly and mentally slapped yourself to return your full attention to the mission. Hundred percent concentration was the key to survival._

_“Cut it, Sam. Focus. Twenty percent downloaded.”_

_“And we’re_ hundred _percent in deep shit,” Clint announced, his words coming out strangled._

_Your heart pounding due to adrenalin stopped as you awaited an explanation in dreadful silence. What?_

_“Get your asses out of the building! RIGHT NOW!” the archer yelled over the comms, paradoxically freezing you on spot for a moment, leaving you with thousands of question marks in your head._

_“Explosives. Shit ton of them and the timer shows two minutes and change, counting down as I speak,” he added and that got you moving._

_“My route’s shorter to the roof. Sam?” you demanded, index finger pressed to you ear, already heading up, hoping he would respond in affirmative._

_“I got ya’, Robin.”_

_Speeding up despite every single muscle in your legs burning, you focused on your breathing, your heartbeat pounding in your ears._

_Suddenly, you were very grateful for all the cardio you had been forced to do. For every single morning run-_

_“Steve?” your hand shot up to your comms once more._

_“I’m nearly at the exit,” Clint announced instead._

_“Me too,” came Nat’s voice._

_You growled in frustration; Steve’s voice probably couldn’t come through as the legendary spy duo spoke practically at the same time._

_As far as you knew, the servers were at the basement and the fact Steve didn’t report made your spine tingle in horrible premonition._

_“Cap? Need a lift from anywhere?” Tony’s voice broke through this time and you faltered in your step. “One minute, thirty seconds.”_

_You finally saw the last two sets of stairs. You were sure you must have left your lungs about five floors below, but that was not why you felt your chest constricting._

_“Nearly at ninety percent,” Steve hissed and this time your feet tangled enough to send you flying headfirst, only years of practice in falling saving your skull from cracking as you curled up, landing on your side._

_The edges of the stairs dug into your arm and ribs, but you couldn’t care less for that, air knocked out of you altogether at the exclaim._

What the FUCK-

 _“Rogers, get your ass out of there!” Natasha yelled at him, out of breath herself and honestly you_ loved _her at that moment._

_You couldn’t make yourself to get up from the floor, paralyzed, panic squeezing your heart. He was not going to make it!_

_“Ninety-three-“_

_“And only a minute left, you idiot!” Tony spitted out. “Get out!”_

_“Robin, still on your way?”_

_“Ninety-six.”_

_“For fuck’s sake, Rogers!” Clint panted to the comms._

_You only managed to blindly stare ahead, forcing your brain to imagine the blueprints of the building, calculating the route Steve might use to get out, your mind sinking into dark waters of horror as you realized there was no fucking way he would-_

_A crash sounded from above on your left, your head snapping that way on instinct just in time to see Sam burst in and the door hit the wall._

_“Robin! Can you get up? We really need to-“_

_Strong hands pulled you to your feet as Steve’s voice, impatient, rang in your ears._

_“Done. Heading out.”_

_Unfreezing, you pushed yourself and ran alongside Sam, but a bitchy sneer in your head informed you that Steve didn’t have enough time to escape the explosion at that point._

_You shushed the prophet-of-doom voice with all you had and sped up._

_“Don’t get seasick on me,” Sam warned you, buckling you to him via the straps on your suit and the snap-links on his, his palms sliding to your armpits. “3, 2-“_

_The sudden jerk and void opening beneath your feet made you dizzy and you stupidly closed your eyes in hope to make it better._

_It didn’t work, your stomach somersaulting._

_And then… then you were flying, speeding away from the building, two figures running tens of feet under you; Clint and Nat._

_Your pair approached the ground quickly, not landing exactly gracefully, but your first instinct was to snap your head back to the enemy base, eyes hypnotizing the exit._

_You found it just in time to see it swallowed up in flames, the ground shaking beneath your feet with the force of the explosion. Glass blew to shards, smoke poured through the suddenly free space of the windows._

_Despite the deafening noise shaking you to your core, the world seemed to fall silent, just like your heart._

_A second later, your instincts kicked in and you sprung towards the building._

_“Hey!” someone shouted from a seemingly endless distance, just a dull scream in your ears; out of nowhere, you were falling, tackled to the ground. “Not happening. You’re staying right here.”_

_Jerking your body to get rid of the weight on you, you achieved nothing, tears of despair welling up in your eyes as you repeated the motion in vain. The void that had opened under you when Sam had carried you away seemed like nothing in comparison to the sudden rip that cracked opened in your ribcage at the image of- of Steve-- he-_

_You sobbed and trashed around once more, a Kevlar-clad silhouette shielding you from the view of terror. Your eyes travelled up, your gaze swimming in tears, meeting worried yet piercing green eyes of your fellow spy._

_“Steve? Report! Rogers?”_

_Your body turned limp at the sound of his name, your eyelids sliding shut, ice crystalizing in your veins. Your whole world swayed, vertigo overtaking all of your senses so intensely you tasted gastric juices._

_No one responded._

_The moment the weight shifted from you, you doubled over and spitted the contents of your stomach, nearly choking on the vomit, a pit growing in your stomach._

_A hand landed on your shoulder, possibly with an attempt to soothe you; with zero effect as you couldn’t breathe in properly._

_“I’m scanning the building, but the heat everywhere is making it a bit difficult,” Tony informed you mechanically, no emotion in his statement._

_You had barely realized in your haze that you hadn’t seen his figure either, but you assumed the suit would protect him, more so since he had been mostly flying around the building rather than bursting in._

_A violent tremble took a hold of your body, blackness edging your vision even with your eyes closed. Ashes danced behind your eyelids, fire and dust, white roses, black wood covered in fabric, red and white stripes, stars scattered over the blue, hiding the ugly truth of a fallen soldier._

_A fallen soldier._

_An irreplaceable leader._

_A loyal friend._

_Your partner._

_Your lover._

_Your love._

_All gone._

_Your hand was pressed against something solid, moving periodically and your breath instinctively attempted to match the tempo. It was really fucking hard, because your ribcage ached, your mouth felt disgusting, your heart pounded in both your chest and temples and pictures of Steve’s smile haunted you._

‘There must be some hope left for him, come on-‘

‘It blew up, you nitwit-‘

 _“Any_ _\-- -py? L-- help? West-- under-“ fractions of words reached your ear and you laughed hysterically, your palms instantly covering your mouth in disbelief, tears rolling down your face._

_“Son of a bitch,” Clint commented behind you and you chuckled, the sound hurting you and yet relieving your tension that had been crushing you for god knew how long._

_You found yourself gasping for air again, this time because you couldn’t stop laughing– and crying-- and cursing in every language you had ever tried to learn._

_“Yes, we copy,” Tony announced wryly, but clearly flied to lend a helping hand to the dumbass of a captain._

_Scrambling to your feet with difficulty as your legs felt strangely wobbly, Sam’s arms appeared on your sides to support your stance. You head spun with adrenalin and residual terror, endless relief slowly creeping in; you needed to see him. You needed to see him and hear his voice clearly, touching him, tasting him, soothing all of your senses with the reality of him not being blown to hell._

_And then, you might kill him yourself._

_But_ god _, first you needed him to prove any way imaginable that he was still breathing._

 _Rationally, you knew it couldn’t take_ that _long, but the moments of no report from Tony was tugging at your stomach, impatience filling every cell in your body as the time stretched to eternity. When Sam hesitantly let go of you, you started making your way, one shaky step after another, towards the still burning building; in hope to shorten the torturous period of not being quite sure Steve would be alright._

_Eventually, the heat and smoke became too much, the danger too imminent for you to come any closer; you, unlike some other people on your team, one in particular, had some self-preservation left._

_“Well and I thought you were born in the first half of the past century, not in the stone age… Gee, Rogers, that’s a lot of rubble…” Tony complained over the channel and you instinctively winced._

_Perhaps Steve wasn’t burn to a crisp, but… trapped under the stones and concrete? That did_ not _sound any better._

_Minutes were ticking by and as the adrenalin gradually left your body, you started shivering despite the heat which the flames provided._

_The sudden flash of red and gold was your salvation. Like an angel of mercy, Tony flew up with a man supported only by his iron palms, carried much like you had been from the roof, and descended to your level, Steve’s feet touching the ground with barely visible stumble. The dried paths of salt on your cheeks were watered again, fresh tears rolling down in endless waterfalls, your mouth once more covered with the back of your hand; your teeth sunk into the leather of your gloves on instinct._

_Steve simply stood there, ribcage expanding widely, favouring his left leg, his arm curled around his ribs as if he had been in a fight with a hostile agent who landed a lucky hit and not with a_ building _that had fallen on him, apparently._

_Your feet acted on their own account as they brought you to him, your body crashing into his chest with ferocity, arms thrown around his middle, face buried in his shoulder. He grunted at the brutal impact of your weight, but his hand reluctantly let go of the shield and had it hit the ground, his arms sneaking around your body instead._

‘Don’t squeeze too tight,’ _you scolded yourself._ ‘He might be bleeding internally. Don’t squeeze him too tight, he’s hurt, because-‘

‘-because he’s a fucking idiot!’

_Just as he buried his face in your hair, you jerked away, staring him down with a murderous glare._

‘He’s injured,’ _you reminded yourself, but that didn’t stop you._

_Balling your hand in a weak fist, you punched his chest with vigour, flaring rage replacing the dread in your veins, searingly hot and destructive._

_“I thought you were dead, you—you stupid piece of--_ jerk!” _you spitted out venomously, your impression of a harpy ruined by your voice breaking as you choked on a sob._

_His blue eyes shone bright yet tired through the smudges of dirt on his face, dust and trickle of blood on the side of his neck, seeping into the high collar of his uniform. He was a picture of misery and exhaustion, but you were torn between pity, relief and anger as he reached out for you, offering you something small in his palm._

_“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he rasped, voice rough from the smoke he doubtlessly inhaled. “But I got the drive-“_

_Snatching the stupid device from his hand, you threw it away – peripherally checking where it landed – and stretched your arm to hit him again._

_Weary hand caught your blow before it could collide with its target and with a strength that surprised you he could still possess after nearly getting buried alive, he pulled you into his embrace again, wrapping you in his arms and breathing you in as if he needed to assure himself_ you _were still in the land of living. Or perhaps he felt the urge to confirm that_ he _was still breathing?_

_“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he creaked lowly, his fingers flexing on the flash of your sides. “I’m okay…”_

_You shook your head wildly, but didn’t try to escape the cage of his arms, melting into his frame instead._

_The truth was though, you fundamentally disagreed with him._

_He was_ not _okay. And you most definitely weren’t either._

-.-.-

You, in contrary, adored the board. Not because it reminded you of the faults your beloved boyfriend had, but because you were hopeful that the whole team giving him shit about it would cause him to be less impulsive and more considerate of the consequences of his actions.

The sign read: ‘______ without Steve doing stupid life-threatening shit’

You had proudly written down number 3 and the word days. You prayed the number would climb (and that you might possibly write down ‘months’ instead of just days), even after Steve healed completely and returned to active duty; which was apparently about to happen very soon.

“Sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh? Nope. It’s staying right here and you better be getting to higher numbers than that.”

“But-“

“When did you ever back away from a challenge, Cap?” Sam entered your discussion subtly and you sent him a grateful wink, while Steve shot him a glare that would have had him lying in a pool of blood if a glare could kill.

“That is awfully accurate,” you noted with a tired sigh, torn between enjoying Steve’s discomfort and fighting with the anxiety caused by the fact that what Sam said _was_ uncomfortably on point. “I can’t believe it took me so long to see the extends of your lacking self-preservation. I didn’t believe them when I first joined, you know? When they told me you were reckless…? God, I should have known better…”

“He did crash a plane before-“ “I’m not _that_ bad-“ Sam and Steve spoke at the same time and you rolled your eyes at the former, locking your gaze with the latter.

“1 minute and 19 seconds,” you protested, not offering any context.

Both Sam and Steve seemed flabbergasted at your statement.

“Huh?”

“I asked Tony about the time,” you elaborated, voice dangerously low. “For 1 minute and 19 seconds after the explosion, there was nothing but silence from you. **I thought you were dead,”** you repeated your words from that day to remind him.

A flare of fury ignited in your chest again and Steve must have recognized the expression on your face, because he instantly took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

You huffed, running your hand down your face, forcing your breathing to return to normal as your glances met and you exchanged a wordless conversation.

His _‘I’m sorry,’_ followed by a perfect set of kicked-puppy eyes he excelled at performing.

Your raised eyebrow in return and _‘I’m sure you are. And?’_

 **“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”** Steve resigned and it brought a victorious smirk back to your face. The victory tasted bittersweet, the fact you were still discussing his near-death experience kinda taking the satisfaction of overpowering him away.

“No.”

“And you’re gonna remind me at every occasion, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” you chipped and crossed the distance that had somehow managed to grow between the two of you. You raised your hand and repeatedly poked at his chest with your index finger; cheekily, yet deadly serious. “Until it gets through your thick skull that your life matters too much to me, to all of us, you _idiotic. Piece. Of dumb-”_

You never got the chance to finish your outraged clipped sentence. Steve shut you up the most effective way known to lovers of humankind.

His fingers sunk into your hair in one swift movement, pulling you in for a dramatic kiss.

And after the days of torturous distance, you gave in, convincing yourself that you’d get plenty of opportunities to give him shit about his recklessness later.

After all, you had the sign to help you with that.

Judging by the burst of laughter as the rest of the team entered the kitchen, you bet they would have your back as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in conciliatory manner once more, his words brushing your lips. “I love you.”

“Hpmf. I love you too. But the sign stays.”

“…dammit.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, I possibly made it too long? *sigh* I also hope I didn’t like… broke some rule or something, my first prompt fic and all. We'll see. We still have AO3...
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to thank @mermaidxatxheart for letting me be a part of this challenge. I enjoyed participating and hopefully, you people, enjoyed reading :)) Leave a feedback if you're willing.


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